


Roses of Hope

by unicornsandphoenix



Series: Fairytale AUs [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Cinderella Fusion, Dead Parents, Draco as cinderella, Happy Ending, M/M, Sappy Ending, but like, cinderella style?, garden, sentient roses, this is a cinderella fic what do you want from me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2018-02-21
Packaged: 2019-03-22 01:35:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13753494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unicornsandphoenix/pseuds/unicornsandphoenix
Summary: Draco’s mother had left him as swift as the winter breeze and as painful as the frost when Draco had just grown tall enough to steal her cookies off of the kitchen table.Now Draco, known as Cinders, tries his best to please his stepmother and stepbrothers.Can a handsome stranger at a ball and a sentient rose garden turn it all around for him?





	Roses of Hope

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jeni_andtheafterthought](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeni_andtheafterthought/gifts).



> This was written as a gift to the wonderful jenny_andtheafterthought (check. her. out. check her out!!!) after I asked if she could write a drarry fairy tale if I would write her one back. Boy oh boy did she. I love you and hope you enjoy <3
> 
>  
> 
> So so so much love to my wonderful as fuck beta, staganddragon (go check her out on tumblr or on here!!!)

Draco’s mother had left him as swift as the winter breeze and as painful as the frost when Draco had just grown tall enough to steal her cookies off of the kitchen table. With a kiss on the forehead and a whispered “I love you,” she could have only one last wish for Draco.

“If nothing else, my darling, I wish for you to be kind and good. Please understand why there is rudeness or unpleasantness in the world, as you should understand why it arose. The more happiness you can bring to their lives, the more happiness your life will be filled with.”

Draco had taken these words to heart and lived by them everyday. He remembered the words when he accepted that to be happy, his father had taken another wife. He remembered the words when his new step brothers took his fine clothes from him, as they hadn’t had the pleasure yet to feel the fine cloth brushing their skin. He remembered the words when his stepmother asked, so his face would not act as a reminder of her late husband and his dead father, for him eat and sleep in the kitchen. He understood that their grief was lessened by his sudden disappearance into the servants quarters. He knew that the burden of death would be easier to bear if he contributed to the housework, washed the clothes, carried the water, and made the fires roar. By the end of the day, Draco would be so exhausted that he would fall asleep in the warm kitchen, next to the dying fire. This earned him the name Cinders, as he would often wake up with ashes on his face and clothes.

The household had soon forgotten that Draco was once the son of a lord, as they soon forgot his real name. The servants no longer called him Master, but Draco was happy as long as Winky and Dobby still called him a friend. His stepmother and step brothers, however, turned vicious and cruel, always calling upon him to do the chores and physical menial labour that was required to run the household.

Draco’s only solace was visiting his mother’s rose garden to care for the plants. It had been the pride and joy of the Lady Malfoy, and she had tended to it everyday. When she passed, the roses passed as well, turing an ashen grey on the brittle vines. It was after the passing of Lord Malfoy that Draco first went to the rose garden to weep. The tears he shed had fallen on the roots of the plant, and after hours when Draco’s eyes refused to release anymore, he had looked up to see the pale pink roses blooming once more. Since that day, Draco came back to the garden every day. He cared for all the life there: the birds who came with feathers as beautifully white as the hair on his head and would pick lentils off of his hand, the mice that came to feed off of dinner scrapes that Draco could hide in his thread bare pockets, and the roses that he coaxed to bloom year round that would reach to his touch. In return for this gentle care, the roses whispered a reminder of his real name to him when the breeze rustled their leaves, and the perfume they dispensed reminded him ever so softly of his mother’s baking and father’s hugs.

Years went by, and soon after Draco’s seventeenth birthday, the kingdom was in celebration. Their prince was to be married, and not only this, but to find his future spouse, there would be a festival that would last three days to which the whole kingdom was invited to. Draco was ecstatic. He had never seen the castle before, only dreamt of it from afar. He searched through his father’s old wardrobe, still untouched from after his death, and found the finest clothes they had owned, the clothes father had married in. His stepmother, however, was not as thrilled. As swift as a viper, she snatched the clothes from Draco’s hands.

“Cinder! You cannot possibly come to the festivities in these worn clothes. You would be the embarrassment of us all.” She promptly flung the garments out the window. “It is just as well, Cinder, as you could not have possibly finished picking the lentils I dropped in the ashes, and you still need to dress and prepare my sons.”

Dismayed but still demure, Draco left to do as he was told. Only once the carriage with his step mother and brothers had ridden off in a sparkle of bronze, feathers and jewels adorning their bodies, and the chores were nicely stacked against the sink, did Draco allow himself to come to the garden to weep. As he arrived, he saw the garments that had been flung out the window hanging on the rose bush. The garments themselves had changed into magnificent displays of silver and gold. It was soft to the touch, and the most beautiful thing Draco had ever seen. And the shoes, spun with silk and embroidered with strands of silver; he had never dressed so quickly in his life. Without the ashes on his face and dressed in fine fabrics, he was unrecognisable. The doves cooed at him as he raced off to the festival.

~~~~

Prince Harry had never before seen a man as ethereal as the man who came striding in through the door of the ballroom. His arrival precipitated no announcement, and yet, none was needed. The two boys, brothers the prince recalled, that had been grinding the prince’s nerves were forgotten as the Prince distractedly left them to follow the glinting silver and gold robes of the beautiful man. Prince Harry was almost afraid to reach out, to tap the shoulder in front of him lest he disappear. Almost.

“Hello,” Harry said, breathless. Draco turned, and smiled. Harry was lost.

“Hello,” Draco breathed, eyes sparkling. “What is your name? Is it your first time at a ball too?”

Harry started; he couldn’t lose this, not now, not him. “Ha-Henry. My name is Henry. May I ask yours?” Draco shared only a small smile and shook his head. Harry held out his hand, eyes darting between Draco and the dance floor, and his heart melted as Draco laughed and grabbed his hand to drag him into a waltz. They danced all night, ignoring the other party members, the King’s thoughtful frown, and enjoyed each other's company.

At the end of the night, Draco left Harry with a kiss on the hand and a low bow, disappearing before Harry could get control of his beating heart. He knew at that moment, he would never be in control of his heart again.

~~~~

Draco hummed to himself as he walked home and straight into the garden. Placing the clothes safely under the roses, he sung the tune that he had seen dancing in his partners eyes as they swung around the room. Henry was kind, and Draco could envision the world bending to his hopes and dreams in a heartbeat. Draco knew he would as well. As Draco tended to the kitchen fire, he knew he had decided- mystery was nice for one night of freedom, but if he got the opportunity to join the festivities again the next day, he would share his name with Henry.

His step mother and brothers returned soon after, all sour faced and bitter. They rambled on about how the Prince had looked at no one but the mystery man, bragging that they had held the attentions of the Prince before he had been wrongly stollen away. Draco let them ramble on. His mind was on a different man.

The next day, after they left, Draco ran quickly back to the garden. The birds chirped at his arrival, and the roses opened with new blossoms. His mood grew. “Hello, all,” he whispered, Entranced by the love he could feel there. He ran his hand gently against the rose vines, jumping slightly when a single thorn cut into his finger. The drop of blood fell from his finger onto the beautiful garments he had worn before.

Before he could despair, however, the clothes transformed in front of his eyes. The deep red color of the blood spread through the robes, ribbons and ruffles appearing the folds. The color fell onto the shoes as well, with an extra shine. “Thank you,” Draco whispered, entranced by the beauty of it. He quickly washed his face of soot and went to the Ball.

~~~~

The ballroom was filled with men and women who had dressed in their finest silver and gold, obviously trying to appease the Prince, seeing what had worked the day before, but Prince Harry had eyes for only one. He paced the floor, refusing to speak with anyone else, much to the king’s chagrin. The King understood, however. He had been much the same with his wife.

When the Prince saw his chosen one sweep into the ballroom again, a slight flush on his face, he froze once more. The garb was different this time, delicately demanding, attracting the eyes and attentions of everyone in the room against a sea of silver and gold. The contrast to his almost white hair made Harry take a shape intake of air. Harry shook his head and went straight to his waiting dance partner.

“Hello,” Harry rushed out, reaching out for Draco’s hands.

Draco took his hands readily. “Henry! I- Henry is that the king?” Draco’s eyes widened in slight fear and admiration as he felt himself press into Harry’s side.

Harry blanched. No, he thought. I needed more time! “Father,” he said instead, tightening his grip on Draco’s hands when he squawked and went to move away.

“Harry, my son, who is it you have here hidden away?” The king smiled kindly at Draco, who bowed with a slightly awed look on his face.

“Someone close to my heart,” Harry chanced, “someone I hope to know more.” He tugged on Draco’s hand and led him away, through the french doors and down a flight of steps that lead them to the Palace gardens. Draco went willingly, albeit a bit numbly.

As they raced through the gardens, the only thing the other was aware of was the heat of the others hand on theirs.

Stopping by a bench near a field of lilies, Harry spoke. “I am sorry I deceived you before,” he said, head bowed. “I was so enchanted by you, I did not want to lose you to prior expectations or formalities.”

Draco smiled warmly, touched. “He- Harry. I forgive you.” He grasped Harry’s chin and tilted it up to meet his eyes. “You deserve to find someone without the pressures placed upon you.”

Harry smiled, and the conversation flowed from there well on till midnight. As the clocks struck 12, Draco jumped a little, almost hitting Harry’s head from how close they were seated next to each other. Draco grinned sheepishly. “I am afraid I must leave you. My journey home is long.”

“Stay,” Harry pleaded with him, but Draco only shook his head. “Will I at least have the promise of one last dance tomorrow?”

Draco hesitated. “Harry, I-”

“Please,” Harry implored grabbing his hands. “I must see you again. I don’t even know your name.”

The corner of Draco’s mouth tilted up in a half smile. His hand, without thought, came up to cradle Harry’s cheek. “My name is not important. Just like me. I want you to be happy, Harry. Dance with some others tomorrow. Find yourself some other partners.”

Harry frowned and mirrored Draco’s hand on his cheek. “The last dance at least. Will you deny me even the final dance on my birthday?”

Draco chuckled, and kissed Harry’s palm before he stood up nodding. “Until the last dance, then.” Harry watched him go around the bend, hand still burning with the kiss held tightly to his beating heart.

~~~~

Draco left the castle in a daze. His head was spinning as he sat beneath the rose vines in his haven. He wanted Harry to be happy with someone well suited to run a country. He wanted to please Harry’s father by allowing someone more suitable than him to take the place by Harry’s side. Perhaps a wife for children. Perhaps a foreign diplomat for his status.

And yet.

And yet his heart still pounded in its cage when he thought of Harry. Their conversation revealed a beautiful, caring soul behind the alluring exterior, but Draco knew this could never be. He belonged here, caring for his garden. He was no one anymore, he didn’t even have a name besides Cinders anymore, and Harry deserved someone. He peeled his layers back one by one, and placed the stunning red garments beneath the roses once more.

The next day saw his step mother and brothers more grumpy than before, and the overcast skies let go the rain they were holding. Draco could only spare a glance in the direction of the garden as hard pressed as he was to finish all the chores they piled on him. It was well into the night before he could release himself from his duties to go to the ball. All the better, Draco thought. I only promised him the last dance, afterall. 

The garden seemed reticent as he crept up to it. Silent, but peaceful. He looked under the rose vines to find his clothes. Last night's rain had washed the vibrant colors away, leaving it damp, cold, and dirty. He struggled to pull his hands through the sleeves, trying not to feel frustrated, trying not to cry, when the pale pink garments moved on their own with a strange golden light.   
The light surrounded him, caressing his skin in a kind manner that he had not felt in a long time. A tear fell down off his chin, as he recognized his mother's face in the midst of the golden haze. The light moved and swirled, sparkling in the night and covering and uncovering Draco and the clothes in an intricate dance. By the time the light left him, flowing back into the roses, he was cleaner of soot than he had ever been and dressed in the most magnificent robes. Pale pink with golden embroidery the robes fell to the soft earth in cascades of smooth, beautiful fabric. Pale pink flowers lined his head in a delicate crown and detailed the cuffs of his sleeves. The shoes had turned to gold, and Draco had never grateful in his life. 

Blinking away tears, he looked at the roses and smiled. “Thank you,” he whispered. “I love you.”

~~~~

Prince Harry had danced with every eligible bachelor and bachelorette at the ball, but none held a flame to his match from the nights before. He sighed and, eyes widening, turned around a corner quickly to avoid the two brothers who would not seem to let him alone. He let out a breath of relief when the brothers passed right by him. The clock was ticking by, and soon the final song would play. Harry had not seen his heart the entire evening, and he feared he would not see him now or ever again. Soon, they were two songs from the end. Harry shared a sorrowful glace with his father and mother, and turned to head outside, away from the ball. Suddenly there were gasps filling the hall. The music slowed to a background humm, and collectively, the room turned to look to the entrance.

Standing there was the most beautiful man they had ever seen. Harry’s heart skipped a beat. His love had come. He bore a crown of roses, and Harry had never seen anything so fitting. He could imagine it as a ringlet of gold and hoped beyond hope that he could make this happen. The color of his clothes matched his pink cheeks, faintly blushed as he looked over at Harry. The robes were magnificent, Harry noted, nothing like he had ever seen before, yet they were pauper clothes in comparison with his love’s enchanting smile.

Harry strode up to him confidently as he dared as the music stopped, and the musicians’ papers shuffled around for the last dance of the evening. He held out his hand to Draco, chuckling at the clumsy bow he had received. “You have returned.”

“I have,” Draco said wryly, unable to stop himself from reaching out to Harry. “I promised you one last dance, after all.”

“That you have,” Harry said, and swept him off his feet. They twirled around the room, eyes only for each other and no words needed. Their arms embraced one another as they danced as close together as they could, neither willing to sacrifice even an inch. Their blooming hearts were not unnoticed by the King, but he only smiled, happy at his son for finding his true love.

The song ended, and with it, the last night of festivities. “Tell me your name,” Harry begged softly in Draco’s ear.

“I cannot, Harry,” Draco said sadly, mind made up. He was not the match for Harry. Harry deserved more than the orphaned boy had to give, which could only ever be himself. He stroked Harry’s face for what he knew to be the last time. “Goodbye, my prince. I can wish only the best for you.” Harry reached out to catch his arm as he pulled away, but the guests of the ball, all wanting to pay their respects to him on his birthday, had crowded around him, and by the time he got out, he saw only a hint of gold disappearing behind the door. Harry gave chase.

Running after his love, Harry tore down the halls and down the stairs. “Wait!” he called, though this only made Draco run faster. “Don’t go! Wait!” Harry was desperate. Draco was quick, however his shoes were making him slower and Harry would catch up any minute. After a moments hesitation, he kicked them off, but only managed to scoop one up before he took off again, down the road and through the town. Harry stopped by the lost shoe. Breathing hard, he picked it up. He knew he would have this man, and this man only as his partner and king. He would return the shoe.

~~~~

Days had passed since the ball and the announcement that the King’s son would be visiting every house in the kingdom, searching for the owner of the lost shoe. Draco sighed at his reflection in the pail of water. He wasn’t worried. The soot had dimmed his hair and made his face unrecognizable. Even if the Prince did recognize Draco, would he still want him like this? Disheveled and without a true family?

Draco carried the pail into the kitchen and almost dropped it when he heard the shrieks of his step brothers. The prince had arrived. 

Draco sighed and continued his chores, not bothering to come out, the fear of heartbreak too great. That is, he tried to continue his chores, but could not when the prince proclaimed loudly, “Is there no one else in this house?” The echo of Draco’s step brothers laughing cruelly rung in the air as Draco dropped the pail and pressed his back against the wall, holding his beating chest.

“Only Cinders,” They said. “But he cannot possibly be the beautiful man you are looking for. He is covered in ashes day and night.”

“All the same,” Draco heard Harry say firmly. “I would like to see him.”

Draco’s step mother sighed treacherously and called out, “Cinders! Come out! Mind yourself and don’t track soot on the carpet again!”

Draco stood up on shaking legs. He wiped his hands on his rags and slowly made his way to the parler. Could it be that he would really want me? In the parlor, his prince was standing with his back to him, dressed as finely as a prince should be dressed. In his hand he held tightly on to a slipper. A golden slipper. His hair was tossed and unkempt, but it made Draco’s heart soar. That being said, Draco knew he had fallen in love with this man for who he was, and not how he looked.

“H- My lord,” Draco corrected himself as he bowed deeply and kept his head down. He did not have a chance to see the Prince's eyes light up in recognition, nor to see him running at Draco, arms outstretched.

“It’s you!” He cried, embracing a startled Draco. “I have found you!” As Draco clutched him back, hiding his tears of joy at being recognised. For the first time in years he felt safe, cared for, and at home. He couldn’t remember when the feeling of being home, in this very house he had grown up in, had slowly turned into stifling dread. It had happened so slowly, so gradually, it was only here, in Harry’s arms, he felt the years slowly fall off of his shoulders and pool on the floor by his feet.

For the first time, he felt liberated. And it was glorious.

Draco took a breath, breathing Harry in, and allowed himself to be selfish, just this once. If Harry truly wanted him, if he gave Draco a chance, Draco would do his best to be everything Harry could ever hope for in a partner, because Harry was everything Draco could ever hope for in life.

“You knew it was me. How?” He said softly, his eyes still squeezed shut as tightly as his hands were wound around Harry’s back, and as tightly as Harry’s hands were wound around him.

“Did you think I could forget you? Did you think I could forget your bow, your smile, and your voice? You looked magnificent in your clothes at the ball, but I fell in love with you. Not them.” Draco was sure his heart had stopped beating. Harry pulled back and smiled at him. “Now I believe I have something of yours.” He held out the slipper and gestured to a chair, which Draco promptly sat in with a heavy thump, eyes still open wide. Ever so carefully, Harry knelt, keeping his eyes on Draco the whole time. He slipped the shoe onto Draco’s foot and cradled it, as if he cared not about the soot covering him. It was a perfect fit. Harry stilled, looking at his thumb softly stroking the arch of Draco’s foot. Quietly, he asked, “Why did you run away from me?”

It was a simple question, and yet, Draco did not have a good answer. “I just wanted you to be happy, Harry. I still just want you to be happy.”

“All it would take for me to be happy, Cinders, would be for you to be happy with me.” Harry said, looking up, eyes blazing. Draco could see the determination, the promise, in them. Draco beamed as his eyes grew wet and cradled Harry’s cheeks between his palms, choking out a damp sob.

“Draco. Call me Draco.” And with that, Draco placed his lips upon Harry’s, and both of their dreams came true.

Outside, the doves cooed as the petals fell from the roses and the vines turned ashened and brittle and sighed once more in liberation. Draco and Harry would start a garden of their own, they knew. With lilies and roses, moon vines and narcissuses. With love, hope, and trust. A new start that would comfort each in turn for years to come. A garden that was not an escape, but a home.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, it means the world to me <3


End file.
